


Good Day

by Quarantined



Category: Dancing with the Stars (US) RPF, Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quarantined/pseuds/Quarantined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day is spent at the zoo. Maks Chmerkovskiy is whipped to the high heavens. He's okay with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.  
> I have no clue what I am doing. Non beta-ed. Apologies. Send me love if you like.

Meryl clasps her laced hands under her chin and rears up onto her toes. Her lips tear into a smile that catches Maks off-guard for its sheer giddiness. It makes her look even younger. It makes _him_ feel younger.

This woman gives him life.

But he is a Chmerkovskiy and therefore is not one to let up the chance to tease, and he counters that pretty smile with a mighty frown and pinches his thumb and forefinger against his nostrils.

"It smells like shit here," he says with a tone of voice akin to one of a sulking, Russian schoolboy. "Literal shit."

Meryl falls back on her heels and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Maks! Temper back some of that enthusiasm.”

He can’t suppress the grin that forms on his face. Her voice is all warm tinkling bells, light and carefree - it still causes affection for her to spread through him like waves or even wildfire; making its way to his heart and bursting through his chest with strength that manages to leave him breathless and happy. The sass makes him want to stop her defiant little mouth up with his, and maybe he would, if they weren’t standing in the middle of Central Park Zoo, hovering on a paved path swimming with New Yorkers and the odd photographer - and maybe he would kiss her in spite of all that, if Val wasn’t here to fling his burly arms over their shoulders and crack some nondescript joke that is completely unfunny.

He doesn’t know what Zendaya sees in this guy… And why exactly is Meryl laughing? His eyebrows draw in and his bottom lip almost pulls out into a pout, but she glances up at him with those big eyes and he melts a little on the inside. He wonders when he became this  _whipped_. He was  _Maks fucking Chmerkovskiy_ , he brought women to their  _knees_ with a wink and grin… since when did he feel all marshmallowy when a girl so much as  _looked_  at him.

Maybe he’s going soft with old age.

Maks sighs.

"Guys, me and Zendaya actually have a lunch date in ten. We’re gonna have to love you and leave you."

Internally, the elder Chmerkovskiy brother cheers. His relationship with Meryl, whilst not new  _new_ by any definition of the word, still felt fresh and exciting. Though alone time was rarer than one would hope for in a relationship of 8 months, they’d made it work somehow, between her continual, though lighter training on the ice, and his participation of Season 19 on Dancing with the Stars (she takes and deserves full credit for that, reminding him that she, despite his view, was not the centre of the universe and could indeed manage without him for 10 weeks.) This weekend in New York was designed to be a family visit, to see his grandma and extended relations, though it had somehow developed into a glorified double date, with Val and Zendaya. His brother is entertaining, and their girlfriends get along fabulously, but Maks has been dying to spend quality time with his girl for a while now. There’s nothing better than having her wrapped up in his arms, watching some film featuring as many actors called Ryan as possible, but there’s just something very satisfying being out and about in public.

Maks drapes an arm around her tiny form. Meryl leans into his side, holding the hand resting on her shoulder with hers before grabbing onto the back of his shirt with the other.

"Babe, what did you want to see?" he asks, as they stroll through.

"Rabbits," Meryl says, and Maks feels a squeal beginning to enter her voice already. She looks up at him with her Disney Face, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide because gods she knows him well enough that he will protest at having to pet soft cuddly bunnies for fun. He exaggerates a groan, giving in, and plants a kiss on her pout. He’d planned a swift peck, a silent and inevitable acquiesce to her wishes but a small, strong arm shoots out, holding him to her. Maks feels her grin into the kiss and he goes in to deepen it before she pulls away, smirking at him still, eyes shining with a promise of things to come. Meryl slips her fingers through his as she guides them to the petting corner.

Bloody minx.

* * *

 

"Maks I want one!" she cries as she points two fingers at a floppy-eared thing with a carrot wedged between its buck teeth and legs that look powerful enough to kick through bricks.

"I don’t know if that’s a good idea baby," he replied, stroking his thumb along the back of her hand, "It looks kinda dangerous."

A matronly woman with two toddlers poised on her hips chortles, “Randy things, too.” The suggestion in her voice is heedless to the wide, innocent ears of her children. “If they hadn’t been hunted down and domesticated, there’d be thousands of the things per square mile.” Her painted mouth hitches, and she appraises Maks in a way that makes him want to sidle behind Meryl and slap his hands over his crotch in fear. “I suppose you two dears could relate, eh?”

The Russian dancer swallows a yelp; Meryl gapes until the woman moves on.

"How very Wendy Williams of her," Meryl says after a tense second, tilting her hips into his, "At least she didn’t recognise us right?"

Maks swallows again, abruptly numb to the musky stench on the air. He pulls his girlfriend close and buries his face into her neck. The space behind Meryl’s ear smells like flowers and something sweet.

"…And I think that creepy old lady might have a point," Meryl’s hand presses into the small of his back and starts to inch down. Maks sucks in his stomach and focuses on the ungainly gait of the displayed rabbits.

"Huh?" he mumbles, dabbing his tongue against his lower lip.

Meryl’s teeth close around his flushed earlobe just as her cool, thin fingers poke below his waistband, stroking the skin there before slipping out and moving to cup his rear. His hips snap forward on a reflex, and he wants to cover his crotch again, for a wholly different reason than just a moment ago.

* * *

 

They arrive at his New York apartment a woefully long time later. Two sets of hands however, allow other,  _important_  things to happen quicker. Somewhere along the way, Maks decides that both staying in or going out without Meryl is meaningless and makes a point of ravaging her into agreement.

It’s a good day.


End file.
